Пол Андерсон: Orbit 1

Malko and Conly stared at him. Neither had seen him so excited before. His mantle rippled uncontrollably and his tentacles were a blur of rosy motion.

“And are they friendly?” Conly asked. A grin broke out on his face even as he asked. Staeen’s pleasure was so undisguised that to imagine the Thosars as other than friendly was ridiculous.

Throughout the next hours the ship drew nearer to them, changing on the screen from a blob of light to a pale blue, wheel-shaped ship that was bigger than anything yet made by the Flonderans. Staeen radiated such joy and happiness at the approaching visit that the Flonderans echoed it and the small scout fairly hummed with the vibrations. Conly and Malko gaped at the size of the wheel; it had a diameter of seven miles. They demanded Staeen tell them everything he could about the Thosars.

“Just like you, like Flonderans, only bigger, much bigger,” Staeen said happily, staring at the wheel rolling through space toward them. “When they come, they visit everyone simultaneously, they have so many ambassadors. Every city, every hamlet, all receive them together. There is a festival, a party that lasts until they depart once more. Their scientists and ours share future dreams; they share discoveries concerning space, as we do with them. . ” He couldn’t continue. Silence fell within the small craft.

The blue wheel drew closer, occulting star after star with its approach. Conly returned to his contour seat and watched the radar. “They’re going to smash us,” he said nervously.

“It fills the sky,” Staeen said joyously. “A blue ring in the sky, and then the force fields like silver balls. .”

“It’s stopped now,” Conly said, cutting in. He adjusted a dial. “Two miles away.”

An opening appeared in the nearest rim of the wheel and three silver globes glided away from it.

“When they get closer you can see inside them,” Staeen said. “They can’t board us, you know. Too big. They’ll pull abreast, invite us to enter their ship.” He wished the two men could share his happiness, could partake of the ecstasy that was rippling his mantle. To be a passenger in the legendary blue wheel of the Thosars! The globes drew closer, dancing through space, circling one another, bounding apart, leap-frogging. Soon they would be close enough for the Thosars within them to be seen. Staeen did not breathe during the last seconds. Even his vibrations stopped. He saw them first; they were signaling.

Conly’s voice jarred him. “They’re only seventy-five feet away!”

“It is as I said,” Staeen cried. “They wish to take us aboard, let us return to Chlaesan with them. Conly, blink our lights-”

One of the Thosars, clearly visible now behind the screen of energy, reached out and touched the scout. It turned. Another of them swam slowly past the port. He was as long as the three-man scout craft. His pale golden body glowed, the magnificent center eye studied them benignly, the great mouth curved in a welcoming smile. He arched away and back again, as a great fish turns in water, lazily, without effort. His face pressed against the port, filling it, too large for it.

Staeen turned triumphantly toward Malko at his side.

“See, just like you, only bi—” He stopped, wracked with pain. There was insane horror on Malko’s dark face; his eyes were bulging, his mouth partially open.

Staeen was hit by slamming, staggering waves of terror such as he never had felt before. He cried out under it, but his cry was not heard. Malko screamed hoarsely, and before he could get to his contour seat, before Staeen knew what was happening, the scout shot forward with a brutal acceleration.

Malko crashed to the floor. Staeen fell also, and writhed in pain, his own and Malko’s. Malko had hit his head against the metal floor and was unconscious, but his brain was sending out urgent pain messages. The pain waves were on a level apart from the mounting, smothering, thundering waves of fear. The g’s increased and Conly lost consciousness. The paralyzing waves of fear diminished. Still the scout accelerated.

Staeen knew they would be killed by the continuing acceleration. Whimpering softly, he started to pull himself across the floor to the control panel. His body had flattened to a six-inch mound and moving was agony. As he passed Malko he saw blood trickling from his nose and mouth. Staeen was leaving a trail of blood behind him. There had been no time to prepare for the sudden acceleration; small ruptures had opened before he could adjust. He blanked out all of his thoughts then except the one guiding him to the control panel. He got to his own seat and was unable to crawl up into it. Conly was stretched out, his face smashed-looking, bleeding. Slowly Staeen dragged himself up Conly’s legs until he could reach the controls. He decelerated. Moments later Conly awakened.

The fear came back, stronger than ever. Conly hissed something at him and tried to push him aside. Staeen flowed over the control panel, blocking Conly’s attempt to accelerate again.

“I’ll kill you!” Conly said hoarsely, sobbing the words. He was oblivious of the blood streaming freely from his nose, seemed unaware of the pain in his chest and stomach when he moved. Staeen felt it more strongly than he did. He lunged at Staeen, who flowed away from the clutching fingers. On the floor Malko stirred. Before he opened his eyes he started to scream.

Conly lurched across the scout and grabbed suits from the storage compartment. He let one of them drop on Malko and started to climb into the other one. Malko, sobbing violently, both with pain and fear, began pulling the suit over his legs. He was shaking so hard that his feet missed the openings several times.

Staeen did not know how either man could move after the ordeal their bodies had undergone. He dared not open the blanking inhibitions he had imposed on his own body. Conly was almost finished when his hand closed on the short-nosed laser gun all Flonderans wore when they went out in space. He stared at it wildly, saw Staeen and fired, screaming obscenities at him. Staeen sealed off the injured part and dropped to the floor. He tried to speak to them, but could not. His voice box had been destroyed when he was flattened by the acceleration.

He was shuddering uncontrollably; he tried to blank out the fear waves, and failed. He gathered his mantle about him and sealed himself within it, then waited. The Flonderans had both gone mad, beyond reach. All he could do was wait. He thought of the thousands of eggs he still retained; carefully, not attracting the attention of the madmen, he deposited them on the underside of the contour seat

Neither man spoke, but occasionally one or the other made an animal noise deep in his chest. The noises filled Staeen with dread.

Their actions were wholly automatic as they fumbled with the suits, driven by their glands and not their brains now. Before Conly pulled on his helmet and face mask, his eyes swept the cabin: they were animal eyes, maddened by fear, all traces of the rational submerged. The crazed eyes saw Staeen and Conly’s hand groped for his gun. He had dropped it. He snarled and started to cross the cabin toward Staeen. The fear waves crashed against Staeen. Malko was reaching for his laser. They would kill him, maybe destroy the eggs on the bottom of the seat.

Staeen moved toward the airlock. Malko’s hand dropped away from the gun. Both men yanked their helmets in place and stumbled to the airlock.

Malko opened the outer hatch; he held Staeen’s mantle with his hand and jumped, pulling Staeen after him. Staeen caught a brief glimpse of the other human tumbling alone in space, then he was gone. The scout flashed away from them, like the great silver ship, streaking away toward the black that lay between the galaxies. Staeen felt the radiation from space like a warm sun on his mantle, then it was gone as he made the necessary adjustment. Malko held him several minutes before he released his hold, and, firing his belt rockets, left Staeen.